


The Places We’ll Go

by fleshcircuits



Category: overwatch
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hanzo is autistic, M/M, Multi, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 15:40:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15633684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleshcircuits/pseuds/fleshcircuits
Summary: Jesse McCree lives his life on the highways and that’s just how he likes it.





	The Places We’ll Go

**Author's Note:**

> i haven’t written anything in a loooong time, but hey! here i am!
> 
> going to preface this with a wee disclaimer that i’m from scotland and know next to nothing about american geography, so if anything is slightly off that’s why! but enjoy this au, let me know what you think, and i’d love to keep this going.

Jesse McCree was a wanderer by nature. A road tripping vagabond that went where he liked, whenever he liked. Sure his dads were always harping on about the state of his trusty old car he'd bought fourth hand for a few bucks and novelty mini fridge and he'd ran out of cash more times than he could count, but he loved the freedom and excitement of the open road.

Jesse sat up in the driver seat, back popping as he stretched awake. He picked up the old red and gold blanket he slept under off the floor, folding and tossing it into the passenger side with all his other worldly belongings. He licked his lips, craving his morning cigarillo and a strong black coffee. Thankfully the gas station he had parked at was twenty-fours and a quick glance in his cracked wing mirror showed a few truckers and travellers settled down for breakfast.

The young man patted down his jeans, finding some bills and change that should keep him fed a few more days. Then he reached on over to the glove box, fishing out a cigarillo from the fresh pack and his well-thumbed road map.

The diner was nicer than a lot of others he'd wound up in. There were truck drivers, as standard, but a lot of students and couples who looked too fresh to have been on the road for very long. He was in Chicago though-- lots of folks started off there to follow Route 66 across to the west coast.

The waitress took his order for pancakes and pours him a cup of thick, black coffee that he chugs gratefully. For diner coffee it wasn't all that bad and it was just the kick he needed most mornings. He whistled cheerfully to himself, flicking through his map as he waited on his pancakes. He had just driven from New York, and before that he'd been further down the coast working on a bar for a couple of weeks to make some much needed cash. He followed routes with his pointer finger, looking up landmarks and cities in all the possible directions he could take from here.

Jesse was suddenly interrupted from his thoughts when a suitcase ran over his foot.

"Fuck!" He cursed, jerking his foot back. It hadn't really hurt that bad, but those were his best and only boots. "You wanna watch what you're doin'?!"

He expected to look up to a hoity toity student on a gap year or some other bozo, but instead there was a man that looked very out of place. He was wearing a grey suit with the jacket slung over his arm and the sleeves of his navy shirt rolled up. He had long, glossy black hair that hung in a loose ponytail. The guy looked like he should be rushing for the subway in New York, not tripping over unsuspecting folks in a diner.

"My apologies," he said with a worried frown, and sounding sincere enough for Jesse to ease up.

"Don't worry about it," Jesse muttered, waving a hand dismissively.

The guy took a seat in the next booth down. Once Jesse had carefully examined his boot and got stuck into his pancakes, he watched him some more. He didn't order anything, just sat there staring into his coffee. He looked around Jesse's age-- couldn't be older than twenty fiveish, surely --with sharp features and a neatly trimmed patch of facial hair along his chin. The pull along suitcase was the only thing he had with him, which looked barely big enough to hold another set of clothes. He watched him take out a fancy phone, sigh at the screen, then frown out of the window.

The phone reminded Jesse that he should probably check his own. He only turned it on for emergencies or to check his messages every few days. It was an old brick of a thing but it did its job and had Snake on it so he didn't really care. Normally he'd have a reply or two from his family, but this time there was a few missed calls from one of his dads. The one that would bluntly call him out for doing stupid shit. Great.

He dialled the number, taking a swig of coffee while it rang.

"Good of you to finally call." Gabriel answered flatly.

"Hello to you too, pa." Jesse rolled his eyes, "What's with all the calls? Everything all right?"

There's a pause. "Sort of. There's no big emergency just..." he sighed.

"You sound mighty stressed."

"Oh, I am. Ana's getting married."

"Wow! That's grea--!"

"In three weeks." Gabe bluntly introjects.

"I mean it's... it sure is sudden." 

"Reinhardt popped the question two nights ago and they decided they didn't want to waste any time."

"Well, they are getting real old."

"Jesse."

"I'm just sayin', they ain't getting any younger. So what's this got to do with me?"

"Seriously? You need to get your ass back here for this wedding. Last I heard you were on the other side of the country."

"Aw, Gabe," Jesse whined, rubbing the back of his neck."There ain't a chance in hell I'm gonna be able to get back to California that fast."

"So dump the car and get a plane back."

Jesse looked out the window at his loyal vehicle, with its chipped paint and taped up back window. He shook his head, even if Gabe couldn't see. "No way."

Gabe groaned, and Jesse can just imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Ana is practically family. And I know he wouldn't say it but Jack will be upset if you aren't there. So you need to get over here. ASAP."

Jesse clicked his tongue in thought. If he was able to drive non stop he could maybe get there with time to spare, but gas money was going to be a problem. Not that his dad needed to know that. He had enough to stress over.

"Look, uh, I'll start heading over today. I should be there on time." He drummed his fingers against the slightly sticky diner table. "Look out my best shirt for me gettin' back now!"

"Jesse, I've let you get away with a lot shit in your life, but letting you wear plaid to a wedding would be too much."

They talked a while longer, with Jesse promising to text them regularly letting him know how far along he was. By the time they hung up Gabe sounded a lot less stressed, but Jesse wasn't feeling so reassured. He finished his his pancakes and washed it down with the remainder of his coffee while he scrutinised the map. Getting to the wedding in time would mean a near non-stop roadtrip, but he couldn't have more than twenty dollars to his name right now. Finding off the books work wasn't normally a problem, but finding the time would be a real issue.

He left a few crumpled bills on the table and headed outside for a smoke to clear his thoughts, and since his schedule wouldn't provide him the leisure of pulling over for a break whenever he wanted to. 

He leant through the car window and felt for the box stashed on the passenger seat. Inside was an old flip lighter and a stash of cigarillos, and he took one out and held it between his teeth as he shook the lighter. Once it was lit he drew deeply, the combination of the morning coffee and nicotine easing away his tensions.

"Excuse me."

Jesse turned to see the suited guy from the diner, fidgeting with the handle of his suitcase.

"Uh, look, fella, it's really all right about the shoes--"

"That is... not what I am here for." He paused. "But I am still very sorry about that."

"Oh," Jesse frowned slightly in confusion, "Then what can I do for you, bud?"

The man's mouth drew together in a tight line as he swept a loose lock of hair behind his ear. "I overheard you were driving to California. I would apologise for eavesdropping but your voice is very loud." Ouch. "In any case, I need to get there myself. Could I join you?"

Jesse leant back against the car, looking over the smartly dressed man in front of him. He was very formal both in manner and dress, seemed very out of his element. He must be stuck if he wanted to hitch a ride with a cowboy that had been wearing the same shirt for a week. "Uh, I'd love to help you out and all but I don't think--"

"I can pay your way." He interrupted, "I can cover gas, food, and whatever else we may need." He paused, then desperately, "And a fee on top of that if you require one."

All Jesse had wanted to say was that he didn't know if this prim and proper man would like sleeping in his passenger seat for nearly two weeks when he looked like he could just hop on a plane and get there in hours. However the offer was real tempting. He was low on cash and he couldn't afford to stop and work. If this guy pulled through the journey would be plain sailing.

Also he was really cute and Jesse had a thing for short guys. That made the decision a lot easier.

He grinned, grinding the cigarillo butt beneath his boot and offering his hand. "Well, partner, you have yourself a deal. Name's Jesse McCree. Real pleasure to meet you."

A tiny, relieved smile tugged at the edges of the other man's lips as he shook the offered hand firmly. "Hanzo." 

* * *

Hanzo-- just Hanzo, no surname, like Prince or Cher and all those types --turned out to be a very quiet companion on the road. He had bought them a full tank of gas and enough snacks to keep them going right after they shook on their deal to travel together. While he was off doing that Jesse had tried to make the passenger side more presentable, moving most of his stuff into the trunk or under his seat, and clear out the numerous empty packets of jerky littering the floor.

"It ain't anything fancy," Jesse informed his travelling buddy, "But uh, she's reliable!" He pats the dashboard, "Promise you that."

Hanzo eyed the swaying hula girl stuck to the dash with obvious distaste. "I see." He replied, tone even, and turned to look out the window.

It was soon apparent Hanzo was not a very talkative companion. They drove for about an hour in silence. Jesse had figured it was still early, Hanzo was probably still tuckered out from wherever it was he had came from. However the silence and Hanzo's unnerving stillness started to make him antsy and he felt the need to attempt a conversation.

"So, what're you going to Cali for?"

He didn't miss the way Hanzo twitched slightly, as if he had been disturbed from some very deep thoughts. "Visiting."

"Aw swell. Family?"

"Mhm."

"My family lives out that way. Friends of ours is gettin' hitched soon so I'm heading back for the wedding, y'see."

Hanzo just nodded, continuing to stare out the window. So Jesse babbled on, "My dad's probably runnin' around silly right now. He's a veteran, should be takin' it easy but he always needs some sorta project to occupy himself. And my other dad's probably got stuck making all the dresses--"

"Two fathers?" Hanzo finally piped up, frowning slightly.

"Yeah. Been together a hell of a long time. Met in the army." Jesse paused, turned his gaze from the road to look Hanzo in the eye. "That gonna be a problem for you?"

He tried to keep his tone neutral, but the words still came out with a more guarded tone than he had intended. Hanzo met his eye and shook his head. "No. Absolutely not."

"Well," Jesse really couldn't read his tone, but he was willing to give the guy the benefit of the doubt, "good."

They lapsed back into silence. Eventually Jesse had to admit defeat and spent a good five minutes trying to tune the radio while still watching the road. He managed to set it to a station that was playing a crackly rendition of "Margaritaville" and other songs Jack would probably listen to and Gabe would hate. Jesse drummed his fingers and whistled along to the dad music.

Click.

Jesse turned his head to see Hanzo taking a photo of one of the numerous Route 66 signs on his big fancy phone. The other man looked like he had been caught out as he quickly locked the screen and placed the phone in his lap. 

"Sorry. I did not mean to distract you."

"Aw, don't fret. I'm a veteran on these sorta roads. Won't judge you for being all touristy either."

"I am not a tourist." Hanzo replied, crossing his arms indignantly. "I just... It is a famous road, isn't it?"

"Yeah, sure is. Lotsa cool things to see along the way."

"Is there?"

"Oh yeah. Might have time to make a few stops."

"We shall see. Maybe."

"Take it you've never been down this way before?"

Hanzo took a moment before replying, "Correct." Back to guarded, clipped answers.

"I've been all over. Come from near the border originally, moved around a few different cities when I got older. Jack and Gabe took me in but stayin' put for too long doesn't suit me at all."

Hanzo frowned-- jeez, he did that a lot. Maybe that was just the way his face was. "What about your family? Your responsibilities?"

"My family know what I'm like. We work around it. And as for responsibilities," Jesse laughed, waving his hand dismissively. "Don't really have any. I work a few odd jobs here and there to keep me and my gal runnin'," he patted the dashboard fondly, "but other than that I'm free as a bird."

"I see." Something in Hanzo's tone implied he did not see. Jesse supposed his lifestyle wasn't for everyone. Most folks liked to have stability, a steady income and, uh, not living out their trunk. But Jesse wouldn't have it any other way.

"You must be from a real nice place, lookin' atcha." He said, trying to prompt Hanzo into speaking about himself.

"Yes," Hanzo turned to look out the passenger window, to the buildings that were slowly giving away to long stretches of countryside. "It was very nice."

"You strike me as a city fella. Am I right?"

"Somewhat."

Before Jesse could pry any further Hanzo patted down the pockets of his jacket and retrieved a pair of earphones, plugging them into his phone and settling down to stare out the window again. Either the guy really wasn't up for talking about himself or he really didn't like Jimmy Buffett. Jesse decided to leave him to it, focusing on the road.

They spent the rest of that first day in relative silence. The only time Hanzo spoke to him was to ask to charge his phone and then they'd had to pull over so he could get one that would plug into the cigarette lighter of the old car. Other than that it had been a quiet journey down the dusty highway, chasing the sun as it dipped behind the horizon.

"So uh," Jesse began, giving Hanzo a gentle prod to get his attention. "Just about night time. I normally just put the seat back and catch some shut eye, but if you want to take the wheel we can keep going and I'll switch back over in a few hours."

"Oh, ah..." Hanzo tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "Unfortunately I cannot drive. Which is why I needed a lift."

"Ah. Well, like I said I normally sleep in here, but if you want a bed tonight there's a town about ten minutes down the road. Won't be anything fancy but they'll have a motel or something."

"That would be fine."

They found a motel that was a lot nicer than some of the stained, bug infested dumps Jesse had stayed in before. It didn't even have any of the neon lettering missing.

"I will need my luggage." Hanzo said, stepping out into the dimly lit car park.

"Gotcha." Jesse replied, also getting out the car. There were a few cars scattered around, but other than that it was very still.

Jesse popped open the trunk for his companion. Hanzo clicked open the locks on his case, then paused. He fixed Jesse with a heavy stare. "You may go inside. Ask for a room for two."

"Two?"

"Yes," Hanzo tilted his head, "You are driving me a long way, and I am very grateful. I will not get myself a room while you sleep in the car park."

"Aww, bud," Jesse, with a usual disregard for boundaries, flung an arm around Hanzo's shoulders in a one-sided hug. "Yer spoilin' me. I'll go get us all fixed up."

Jesse whistled all the way to the office while Hanzo rummaged around in his case. While the tired looking clerk rummaged around for their key he glanced out the window just in time to see him snap the suitcase shut, lift it from the back, then close the trunk. He paid for their room with a huge banknote that the clerk held up to the light to check, but he was satisfied enough to hand them their key after a spiel about checkout times.

 "Aw boy," Jesse groaned, flopping back on to one of the twin beds, "Haven't slept in a bed for a few weeks now. I'm gonna be sleeping like a big ol' hairy baby tonight." 

"...great." Hanzo replied, tucking the case under the bed and folding his jacket neatly on the sideboard. "Then we can get an early start tomorrow."

"Sure, if you like." Jesse took off his hat, dropping it over the lampshade between their beds.

Hanzo excused himself for a shower. Jesse tuned out to the sound of running water, flicking through the TV channels before settling on a cheesy looking action movie that was half way through the running time.

A short while later Hanzo padded out of the bathroom in just his boxers with the rest of his clothes bundled up in his hands. His hair hung damp and glossy to just below his shoulders-- those strong, smooth shoulders that Jesse hadn't noticed before. For a smaller guy he seemed to be mostly muscle; his torso and stomach agonisingly defined-- compared to the chubby belly than hung over Jesse's jeans. If he was a more self-conscious man the sight of him would make him want to button up his shirt again right up to the neck.

When Hanzo turned the other way something else caught Jesse's eye. An intricate dragon tattoo curled all the way up one of his arms, framed by clouds and other detailed patterns.

"Real pretty."

Hanzo flinched slightly, holding up the shirt he was in the middle of folding to cover himself. "What?"

"Oh! No, I meant, uh, the tattoo. Looks real intricate."

"Oh." The shirt lowers with Jesse's gaze, but he snaps his eyes back up to meet Hanzo's. "I suppose so. It took quite a lot of work."

"I bet it did. You got any more?"

"No. I think this one was enough."

"Real shame." Jesse chuckled, "I, uh, have a tattoo as well."

"Really?"

"Heh, yeah," Jesse snickers again, making Hanzo frown.

"What is so funny?"

"Aw, well... it's a real piece of art, y'know."

Hanzo narrowed his eyes. "Judging by your tone I doubt that very much." 

"Okay, you got me there. It's a tramp stamp."

"A... What."

"A tramp stamp! A real doozey. You wanna see?" Jesse asked, already loosening his belt buckle.

"You aren't going to take no for an answer, are you?"

"Naw. It's way too funny not to share."

Jesse stood up, his back to Hanzo as he untucked his shirt. He lifted it to reveal his faded ink. It was two wonky looking guns that pointed down the way, the kind of thing that his seventeen year old self thought was a hilarious idea at the time. He remembered Jack catching a glimpse of it beneath his shirt and yanking it up, more disappointed at how shitty the tattoo was rather than the fact he got it done in the first place. Apparently he had seen better stick and pokes done while he was in the army.

Hanzo studied him for a moment before replying. "That... certainly is something."

"You can say it's shit. I know it's shit."

"Okay. It is shit." 

Jesse grinned as he heard Hanzo laugh quietly.

They settled back down, Jesse watching the rest of the movie and Hanzo, after a very thorough hair brushing routine, writing in a very expensive looking journal. Instead of getting dressed (did he even have pyjamas? Jesse sure didn't) Hanzo lounged on his bed, front first, with his surprisingly delicate ankles crossed behind him. Jesse considered himself to be quite the gentleman, but he couldn't stop his eyes from wandering over the other man's body.

"I uh, guess I'll turn in proper now."  

Hanzo hummed in acknowledgement as Jesse slipped under the covers, turning over to sleep and try not to think about the other man's form silhouetted by the moonlight.


End file.
